#so here's a lil drabble

[yeyinde]

Been on something lately with Price + someone more reserved/avoidant when it comes to sex.

Someone who doesn't have any real, tangible desire for intimacy. Romance. Outside of a few summers spent rutting against their pillow, chasing the spiralling ends of a hazy daydream with their fingers stuffed inside their panties, chanting be normal, this is normal, you want this in their head as they think of vague shapes, shadowed anatomy; a featureless silhouette rutting between their thighs, they just don't have that drive to pursue something like this.

And it's over drinks when it comes out (too many, of course; but Price has this way of needling under your skin, patronising you with just a shallow lift of his brow whenever you order water: a sly, subtle challenge in blue, one you feel obligated to meet—). Tipsy, loose lipped, you confess that you just don't really get the appeal. It's fine, you whine, fingers tapping out an off-rhythm beat on the worn wood. When it's just fantasy, but the idea of it, of sex and romance and everything else that comes after is a little too much.

A shame, he says, but he listens. Takes in your words with a gruff counter of his own, volleying back his own desires until they swallow yours whole.

And when he finds out you never really learned how to touch yourself—something he finds truly sad, detestable, really—he takes it upon himself to teach you the wonders of it. Of sex.

(with him. Only him, of course. Because you not wanting to fuck anyone else is perfectly fine. Great, even. But not wanting to fuck him? Well. He'll fix that character flaw with his own hand.)

He takes you home. Drunk little thing. Can't even handle your liquour, mm? He's really gotta do everything for you, doesn't he? But you go willingly, stumbling after him like a little puppy until he pulls you down on his lap, back flush against his broad chest, and slips his hand down your pants. Shush, don't worry, doll. Just relax. He'll show you what you're missing out on.

Bullies desire, want, into you with the rough slide of his hand, cooing mockingly in your ear when your body reacts to his touch. See? told you you'd get nice and wet for me, mm? Now, let's make this pretty pussy cum, love. Shush, don't fight it. Just give in. That's a good girl—

He sees you as something he can mould. Break. Tame.

A pretty project to force into the role he wants with every fibre of his being: a wife. In the truest sense of the word too because as much as he wants an adorable little mantelpiece to put behind stained glass, worship when it's convenient for him to do so, he wants someone to mould their existence around him. Soft edges to his harder ones. Kisses on his forehead before he leaves for work. Dinner on the table when he gets home. Knees locked tight to your ears, waiting for his cock every night.

And you're the perfect fit for the role, aren't you? Sweet girl. Just needed a firmer hand, didn't you? Someone to tell you what to do, what you need.

There's nothing wrong with you, he says, slipping his thick fingers through your swollen, wet folds, pads tight against your sopping, pulsing hole. It's more cum than slick that leaks out of you now, and he hums around an exhale when he pushes it back in, feeling the way your body responds. Fluttering, flexing, trying to pull him in deeper. Reacting to his touch perfectly.

Like you were made for him—

"Jus' needed me to come along and give you what you needed, mm? Don't worry, I'll take care of you from now on."

[angelpuns]

Lil Hater Au Prequel Blurb:

Leo stormed through the lair, trying his hardest not to look incredibly worried. He rushed past the living room, a sound of general confusion following him. He didn't bother looking back, he thinks by how deep the voice was it must have been Raph. 

He didn't have time to stop and he didn't have time to explain. He hurried to his room, huffing at the effort it took to slide his doors open. He needed to make a mental note to ask Donnie to oil it. Or he could himself. Whatever, he probably wouldn't remember regardless. 

Leo leaned his crutches against the wall and hurried to pull his gear on. Wraps, pants, belt, knee brace. 

He struggled with the second one, but ultimately decided to wear it. He planned to be fighting, whether it was his friend or someone else, and he'd need the support.

Leo fumbled with the cool metal of his battle shell, cursing under his breath at all the time he was wasting. He needed to hurry! He wasn't gonna make it if he didn't hurry! He quickly pressed the button to adjust the pressure and did a little stretch to test it. Perfect as always. 

One sword was slotted into the holster on His back, the other held tight as he hurriedly reached for his crutches. 

He spotted Raph poking his head in the door just as he opened a portal, shooting his older brother a (hopefully) reassuring smile before stepping inside. 

He winced at the high pitched ring of electricity that always accompanied it, his cochlear quickly readjusting as he was transported to the back room of Run of the Mill. 

It was quiet back here, the voices of patrons far enough away that even he couldn't hear it. And just as he thought, Yuichi was standing with his hand on the back door’s handle. 

He had quickly turner at Leo’s arrival, a knowing scowl already on his face. 

“ Leo, I told you not to bother,” He huffed, turning to face him fully, “ nothing you say is gonna stop me.” 

Leo gave him a once-over. Yuichi was in his old Nexus gear, though it didn't seem to fit him well anymore. In personality or in size. 

“ What you're doing is idiotic. What if you take another hit to the head? Or you have a seizure?” Leo started, slotting his sword into its holster, “ you think those guys in the arena are gonna wait and make sure you're okay?”

Yuichi didn't answer, grimacing. He didn't meet Leo's eyes, hunching in on himself further. 

Leo swallowed. The thought of it had him tossing and turning most nights, new nightmares adding to an already startling collection. He didnt want to say it in case it became a reality. 

But how was he gonna get it through this fluffbrain's thick skull if he didn't voice It?

“ They'all kill you, Yuichi…” 

The words felt like glue in his mouth, sticking badly to his teeth. Like Leo was sentencing his friend to death with just that statement. 

“They won't! I'm… I'm not weak, Leo!” Yuichi fired back, letting out a sigh and letting his hands dall to his sides, fists clenching. 

He stood up a little straighter, eyes meeting Leo's for the first time since he'd gotten here. 

“ I have to do this. She has my sword, and I have no intention of letting her get away with keeping it for another day longer,” 

He turned to leave, Leo stumbling forward to reach out and grab his arm. It stopped him for a moment, and Leo seized the opportunity to squeeze a little tighter. 

“ Yui, come on, you're not this stupid. You know she won't give it up without a fight, “ He started. He never understood why Yuichi was always so serious about getting the sword back. Leo understood more than anyone about how it felt to lose a precious weapon, but it had never been worth his life. It had never meant making such a dogshit deal with the devil herself. 

“ Leo, let me go…” 

Yuichi pulled weakly at his arm, but Leo pulled him back a little, letting out a weak laugh. 

He was getting desperate. 

“ its just a sword, Cottontail! We can get another-”

Yuichi ripped his arm from Leo's grasp, the slider stumbling forward to catch himself at the sudden balance shift. 

Yuichi's face was shattered, tears threatening to spill and cheeks flush with anger. He bared his teeth for a second, words choked out UB angry hiss. 

“ it's not just a sword, Leo!” 

He let out a shuddery breath and quickly wiped his eyes, hand on the door handle again. 

“ you don't understand! I have to do this, I have to be the one to do this!” He opened the door, the roar of a crowd and the bright lights of the battle nexus arena suddenly flooding the dark, quiet backroom.with light and sound. 

Leo flinched at the adjustment in his tympana and grimaced, “ at least me me help you! I'm- I can help you!” 

“ NO!” Yuichi didn't even turn to look at him, “ I have to do this alone!” 

He stepped through the door, leaving it open behind him as he started through the long corridor leading out to the arena.  

Leo could only watch, heart in his throat. Whether that was because of the thudding of the arena past the door or because he as fucking terrified, he didn't know. He trued one last time, leaning and shouting through the door. 

“ YOU’RE GONNA DIE OUT THERE!” 

and in the last second before the door shut itself, he saw Yuichu turn with such a fearful look and lock eyes with him. 

He was scared. And Leo couldn't help him in the slightest. 

[averycutesalamander]

merry crimes from me and boothill 💝 i hope everyone has a fantastic day !! 💕

[junebugdunes]

candy colored 🍭

[boundbysand]

i can scarce get by

life series (ambiguous, written with secret life in mind) scar character introspection drabble. 731 words. warnings are a bit difficult to word for this- i'd say cw for self loathing/hatred and manipulation.

Scar has never been sure of who he is, but he's more than sure of what he can do. Whether that's a good thing or not is up in the air.

-

Scar's smiles do not meet his eyes.

They rarely do, at least. At this point he's almost never sure if they're real or not in the moment. He realizes, afterward, how much energy it had been taking to paste them on. How much he just wants to sleep now. Sleep doesn't seem to be enough, never will be, but he thinks it's the most he'll get. Anything more is unreasonable to wish for.

He wishes, time and time again, that his cheerfulness could be real. That it didn't feel performative most of the time.

Then he smiles at people again, sharp and with too many teeth, fake fake fake, and doesn't think they deserve his real smile. If they believe him, if they're this easy to trick, then he'd rather keep any genuine joy to himself.

It makes him sick.

Whether what makes him feel ill is other people being so stupid as to so easily believe him or his willingness, his ease in manipulating them, he's not sure. He thinks it might be both. Wonders if it's allowed to be both.

It comes as easy as breathing to him. Weaving a story so convoluted one simply gives up and relents, their head spinning too much to make any sense of the mess of words Scar offered. Sprinkling in little lies to reassure someone. Convincing someone wholeheartedly that what he's doing is right, is good, when he's not sure himself.

He does it to survive, he knows. Everyone manipulates in a death game. Not all of them manipulate outside of them, too, but- well. Not all of them had to do it to survive beforehand either.

He avoids the topic of his days before, both with others and with himself. It's not important, no matter how much it weighs on his shoulders and affects everything he does, his actions, his thoughts, his being as a whole.

If he tells himself it isn't important, it isn't.

He is the way he is now and there's no going back. All he can do now is survive.

So he does. He lies, he fakes cheer, he fakes his personality, he manipulates.

The shame and guilt eat him alive inside, a monster all of his own creation existing low and deep in the pit of his intenstines, devouring him minute by minute, consuming his entire being until Scar isn't sure he's Scar anymore. He is the beast, ugly and horrifying and evil, and he is Scar. They might be the two most opposite creatures alive. They might be the same creature entirely.

It's unclear whether or not the monster was always there, or if Scar created it himself, or if the world's cruel hands placed it, piece by burning piece, inside of Scar from the moment he was born. He knows the answer. He will remain adamant that he did it to himself regardless.

Scar knows he is not to blame. Scar knows he is every bit as ugly and appalling as he thinks he is, and it is his fault.

Scar is contradiction, wrapped up in a fake smile and a crumbling psyche.

He is friendly, self-sacrificing, and joyous.

He is hate-filled and mean, selfish, and miserable.

He puts on a mask, a face others would much prefer to see than the Scar only he knows, at the detriment of himself because he knows he won't be accepted any other way.

It works, too. It works so goddamn well it's sickening.

People like him. People trust him.

It makes him feel powerful, appeased and admired, on top of the world. He thinks it might be all he needs, to feel this way.

It makes him feel deplorable, queasy and ashamed, like the scum of the earth. He wants to claw every inch of skin off of his face with his own bare hands until all that remains is the real him.

Ugly and bloody and dripping red. Angry and envious and selfish.

He smiles, he holds the mask tighter. A private dance he plays with himself every moment of every day, himself and nothing like himself all at the same time.

He wonders if anyone will ever realize the difference. One day, maybe, someone will notice how dull his eyes look when he smiles.

[gothsuguru]

remember when i said i’d do my smut drabbles for Halloween . well i’m a Liar who Lies 🩷

[xawkward-ariesx]

Because it hurts

“They’re people?” “They were, until they had all their humanity taken away… All emotions removed.” “Why no emotions?” “Because it hurts.”

She thinks about that sometimes over the years. After everything. After the walls have sealed them universes apart. After she sees the Doctor one last time but only to say goodbye, to tell her that this is the end, that she can never come back. After everyone moves on and carves a space for themselves in this new world that had left a gap just for them.

She thinks about the Doctor stood before a cyberman’s head as he told her, “An old friend of mine. Well, enemy.” She thinks about the way he couldn’t distinguish between the two for a moment. She thinks about the way he’d spilt about old monsters and the world he’d burned to destroy them. She thinks about Sarah-Jane, an old friend he’d never been able to speak of. 

She thinks she understands some of that now. She wonders if he keeps silent about her the way he did Sarah-Jane. Thinks she’d understand that too. She thinks about Sarah-Jane telling her the Doctor had been called home by the Timelords, how she’d never seen him again. She thinks about the way the Doctor never talks about them; talks about the beautiful planet, the trees, the grass and the two suns it used to orbit.

She thinks about the Doctor screaming at the Nestene, trying to bargain with it even after it’s shown itself to be hostile. She thinks about the Doctor and how his pity for the Gelth had made him blind to their intents. She thinks about the way he wears his scars and if she’s one of them now, or if he keeps her hidden away with his memories of people. She wonders if he still lets his pain and his anger fuel his need to save another planet, another people. She wonders if it still burns a hole through his hand the way there’s a burning in the back of her mind.

She thinks she understands him in a way she never could before as she fights to prove him wrong. Words and numbers falling from her lips in a way that reminds her of Jack, remind her of him. Things come to her easier these days, things she’d never understood before when they’d gotten lost in techno babble back before. Before she’d gotten stuck. Before Jack had stayed behind to fix the Earth. Before they’d left him alone, despite their best intentions.

Things slot into place for her now in a way that she doesn’t understand how but comes from the golden, burning place in the back of her mind that she knows shouldn’t exist. Should be locked behind fortified doors. Shouldn’t still be glittering, but hollow and cold. Shouldn’t leak secrets of the universe into her ears. Should leave her clueless and frustrated, grasping at dead ends in a way that’s expected of a girl off a council estate that never finished her A levels. A girl that had followed a stranger to the stars and picked up a few more along the way because she hadn’t understood then; but she’d seen the same lonely shadow in him that she’d felt in herself.

But she understands things now that she shouldn’t. She understands dimensional travel. Understands the cracks in the walls and the scars in the void that never completely heal if you press just right. Understands the physics and theory better than anyone of her time period should, let alone her. Understands why monsters are easier to face than the ones you’ve lost. Understands why there had been locked doors on the TARDIS in the same way she can’t bring herself to decorate the blank room she’s found herself occupying. 

And she wonders if the fire ever burns out for the Doctor in the way the universe feels a little too heavy for her sometimes. She wonders if he sees her in the way she hears his words in her mouth. And the shadows she’d seen him seem heavier in her own eyes these days. She thinks about her mum’s words on that fateful day.

“You even look like him.” “How do you mean? I suppose I do, yeah.” “You've changed so much.” “For the better.”

She thinks about how it had filled her with pride at the time. She thinks about how she’d thought she was fitting into this new world that he’d shown her. How she’d become more than just another nineteen-year-old girl from the Estates. She thinks about how she doesn’t bother to fit into this world. How she doesn’t try to force this world to make space for her where there is none. She thinks about how that sentiment has become even more true in his absence. She does look like him. From the way she carries herself to the way she carries her scars and her secrets, lets them make her someone else.

She thinks about the worlds she’s seen dying as the stars blink out of existence across reality as she fights her way back to him. She thinks about the way she’s let every single one of them harden her when she couldn’t save everyone. She thinks about the nonchalant way the Doctor had spoken of the empty Earth before the sun had swallowed it whole. She thinks she understands how he’d focused on the survival of the species of the planet living amongst the stars instead of fixating on the planet he couldn’t save. She thinks about the lone survivor of a planet with its twin suns and the little blue box that remains its planet’s only reminders of its existence after the universe moved on.

She thinks about all the people they hadn’t been able to save. About how every single one of them had burned deep inside of her, fueling a resolution to do better next time. She thinks about how the first few fires had burned her before she learned how to put up the appropriate armour up. She thinks about the Doctor and his own armour. She wonders what taught him to put walls up between himself and the fires.

But mostly she thinks about the ways the years slip by her unnoticed, despite her mortality and the way she feels as though she’s never getting any closer to what feels just out of reach. And she wonders if it’s the same for him. She wonders if his immortality weighs on him the way her humanity weighs on her. She thinks she understands now the adamant way he’d spoken of humanity and how it hurts, the way there’d been no room for argument. The conviction in his words as a man burned too many times.

[whump-queen]

“You know, I’ve never seen you get pinned in the ring… Now I can see why.”

drew @emmettnet’s Logan and Cassius because I can’t get this moment out of my head

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

doodle dump from earlier-learning to draw glitchtrap for my truman show au…

[idolsummons]

It wasn't a holiday she had a particular interest in. It was thanks to her parents that she had to wake up and skip her typical morning routine to instead attend a church service and spend the day socialising - not that the latter is particularly irksome, given her chosen career, save for the one person who would always have just figured out who Hana was and felt the need to approach her about oh, my daughter loves your music so much or wow, we're the same age and you're doing so well for yourself! I've always been a fan! It came with the role, but sometimes she wished for a single day in peace. Hana did not arrive home until the sun had shied away and the moon took its place in the sky. Like someone scrubbing themselves clean after a particularly bad encounter that felt like a stain on their psyche, Hana hid herself away in the room that was typically locked, opened for one purpose and one purpose only: to further her studies into the field of dark magic. It was her Christmas too, after all, and didn't she deserve to do something for herself?

[fidgetspringer-art]

The story

Here's a little summary of Martin and Noah's overall history together for those interested!

They meet when Martin finds the mangled wreck of a motorcycle on the side of a road. Black lines of rubber snaking along the asphalt behind it.

Figuring this is the world’s way of making Martin pay it forward after surviving his own accident, he helps Noah to the hospital where he sticks around for a bit and they get to know each other.

When Noah is discharged he’s left stranded with a wrecked bike and nowhere to go, so Martin offers him a room at his farm while his broken wrist heals and while he fixes his bike, in exchange for a helping hand around the farm. Noah accepts and the two of them hit if off a lot better than either of them could have expected.

They spend the first several years knowing each other in what is in a lot of ways a very domestic relationship, while it's also nothing like that at all.

Martin never leaves the homestead for longer than he has to. Only to resupply or to trade produce with a few of his nearest neighbours, who are the closest thing he has to friends.

Meanwhile, Noah comes and goes a lot like a stray cat.

Sometimes he's only gone for a few days, other times he's gone for months. Martin mourns his absence every time he leaves, but suddenly he'll turn up again and it'll be like he never left at all.

Sometimes Noah sticks around long enough that Martin starts to think he might actually stay for good this time. Until he gets the itch again and vanishes like it doesn't rip Martin apart every time.

Sometimes Noah comes home with a gift and a good story. Other times he comes back with a black eye and fresh scars, or hiding bruises that Martin only catches glimpses of in passing.

So while their relationship is very good in a lot of ways, it's flawed in just as many. They're not very good at talking about it. Noah is afraid of getting tied down and Martin is dealing with a lot of internalised homophobia that doesn't let him fully enjoy what they have without a lingering sense of guilt.

They argue a lot at first. Trying to drive each other away while desperately clinging on to what they have.

They're both very imperfect and very lonely people who find a lot of comfort in each other, even if what they have isn't ideal and even if they hurt each other along the way. They love each other like nothing else, but their individual trauma doesn't let them have a truly healthy relationship for a long time.

In the end they keep up this weird sort of orbit around each other for almost 7 years before they finally realise that they need to sort their shit out. Their happy ending is that they talk it through and settle down. Noah moves in permanently, and when he gets the itch to move he either takes a day trip on his own to get his wiggles out, or they take a break from the farm and roadtrip for however long feels right to them.

[1930sdarlin]

HAI MEGS ARE U COOL WITH PPL ROLEPLAYING ON UR BLOG? :3

Hello again, Rainbow (?, may I call you that?),

Yes I'm mostly okay with role-playing on my blog. The usual rules apply to being respectful when it comes to that but! I do have a stipulation.

My personal account (which is this one) is not really much of a role-play blog- being as I'm not technically playing a character.

(My sona is who I'm playing as a lot of the time in roleplays, especially when it comes to Chenya. )

TLDR; I'm fine with a little bit of rp- just not a lot.

[whumpshots]

Whump ABC #16

[misty-moth]

You know who I have a surprising amount of ideas for?

Nokto.

You know who I have a strangely lacking amount of ideas for?

Arthur, brain please let me create stuff for him, Clavis is my second fave but I doubt anyone would believe that based on my content.

I make a lot for Vlad, too 🤔 I like vampirey vampires 🤷‍♀️

[solmxri]

Despite Matei's asexuality, he still suffers with sexual desire and there is only two ways for them to deal with it - the normal way and the destructive way.

The normal way is just rubbing one out or just taking a really cold shower to kill the thing.

The destructive way, which only occurs if he just out right ignores those desire for a prolong amount of times, he gets... hungry. Like in the cannibalistic way. He usually try not to get to that point, but sometimes he forgets, and sometimes people in his apartment complex just go missing. :)

[armafidelium]

okay angsty thought: what if before the whole spirit realm & noctum thing aphelios would hum/sing to his sister as a shared comfort thing that helped them fall asleep